


Nico- A World Without the Gods

by Awkward_Teen



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Demigods (Percy Jackson), Cute Nico, Happy Nico, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:28:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27416518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awkward_Teen/pseuds/Awkward_Teen
Summary: I'm sad, so I'm writing this fanfiction for the serotonin, will this be a one-shot… probably, I have no motivation 99.99% of the time so here we go:For context:This AU is set in Venice, Italy 1946. This would make Nico around 14, in turn this AU does interfere with key parts of the canon plot, that being Nico’s relocation to America and more… This is going to be a completely wholesome fanfic. ALSO FRIGG H*MOPHOBIA THERE WON'T BE ANY OF THAT BC I WANT HAPPINESS, maybe a little bit of internalised h*mophobia, but there definitely won’t be any from other people…. UR WELCOME?Trigger warnings will also be provided in the initial summary before the chapter starts.In terms of plot:Nico is a scrappy posterboy for his hometown in the countryside near Venice. On his daily cycle delivering the morning news/packages to the people, he slowly becomes infatuated with a boy who always reads books on the windowsill at the local bakery… (yeah I’m sorry no solangelo, how is Will supposed to be alive lol). And finally, the demigods seemingly don't exist, nico is not a demigod, this just be some vanilla fluff.
Relationships: Nico di Angelo/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Nico- A World Without the Gods

Chp.1- The Delivery

Nico Di Angelo’s rusted bicycle creaked as he sped down over the stone bridge, the valley was pristine in the summer, rolling fields dotted with canary flowers and buzzing honeybees. After the war, many people were in much higher spirits and the town seemed as lively as it was before, business was flourishing and happiness was bountiful. Luckily it was almost 8am and they had only one last delivery left, he needed to go to the local bakery anyway, grain is a precious commodity and it's best to get some in the morning when it’s fresh.  
The bakery stood at the end of the hill, the air felt inviting and warm as if it was a second home. It always smelled of baked goods, but today it carried a small whiff of subtle sweetness that surely made any mortal salivate. As usual the stained wood sign of the Moretti Bakery swung about with the breeze and creaked almost in harmony with the bell that rang as the people entered. Nico laid his bike against the tanned, rough wall of the shop and groaned heavily as he lifted the bag of flour, the small boy wasn't going to lie, it was extremely heavy, surely at least 25kg. As much as he hated to admit it, he was quite scrawny, practically skeletal, definitely wasn't the strong man his late father would’ve wanted, a common thought in his head. The 14 year old misses his dad greatly, he came back after the war with a terrible limp and died soon after from sickness that seemingly appeared from nowhere. With a shake of his head, the scrappy posterboy dusted off his tattered silver vest, adjusted his unkempt hair to look only just presentable and entered the bustling bakery.

❃❃❃

The bakery was as homely and welcoming as it appeared from the outside, Hestia Herself surely touched the oaken furniture and walked upon the varnished floorboards. The place was bustling with the typical early risers of the summer Saturdays, women, men and children alike were being spoiled by the scent of apple, cinnamon and flour alone. It wasn't before Nico took two steps into the establishment before he was greeted warmly by the friendly baker Stefano Moretti. The man must’ve been at least 6’4, a large ox of a chap, thick arms and large belly and rosy cheeks, almost as if a living reflection of Saint Nicholas.  
“Nico, my boy, good to see you, do u have something for me”, the giant exclaimed with a smirk,  
The boy could only respond with a grunt, which amused the humongous man, who easily lifted the flour with one arm and frustrating ease, “thanks kid, take a seat, you want the usual right?”. With a nod the small boy dipped his hands into his pocket and extracted crumpled change, and placed it in Moretti’s gargantuan remaining hand.  
Di Angelo sat in his normal spot, that being the shady corner far from the windows, he also got a view of the entire bakery, something he enjoyed to look at. The way he can stand still and watch time go by, people come in and leave, as time is an illusion that helps things make sense, a never-ending spiral that was given random measurement… Existentialism was common practice in the cryptid mind of Nico Di Angelo. Almost nothing could snap his mind out of it, but this person seemed to do it with ease, a small boy with sandy blonde hair, freckles and circular glasses sat peacefully by the shop window, simply reading a hardcover book. Nico had never seen someone so perfect to him, he could’ve swore his jaw dropped. But, the sound of laughter made him hesitate, intense panic set in, so quickly in fact, Deimos may as well have grabbed the teen by his throat. Was he allowed to look at him like that? He knew for certain that boy was much prettier than any girl he’d ever seen…  
“You ‘right there, kiddo? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”, trifled Stefano, dumping a loaf of bread and a plate of pastry on the chipped table, “the pastry’s on the house, it’s just offcuts mainly, they were going in the garbage and thought u might like them instead, thanks for the delivery, kid!”.  
The pale skinned boy didn’t have any time to reply before the chef had already retired back to the kitchen, leaving snow white footprints behind them. After chuckling slightly at the cashier’s expression as if she was thinking ‘I just sweeped that!’, Nico’s attention drifted down towards his plate, on it were medium-sized strips of oddly-formed pastry dusted with icing sugar and smelled of just that. Anything Moretti cooked was always of outstanding quality so he wasn't surprised to find stars in his eyes when the boy took his first bite.  
Nico couldn’t help but to glance up at the boy by the window once again, who was still engrossed in another world where maybe fantasy wasn't fallacy, maybe a world of mischief and magick or maybe of two star-crossed lovers.


End file.
